Kylene
by Quiet Echo
Summary: There's a new girl at Horizon...
1. Chapter 1

  
Disclaimer: I don't own Higher Ground or any of the characters from Higher Ground. However, I do own Kylene and her family. 

Rating: R - for language, adult content, suicide attempts and sexual scenes later to come. NO LEMON. I repeat, NO LEMON. I don't like to go that graphic with sex. I prefer it to be left up to other's imaginations. The closest I'll ever get to a lemon is what you'd see in a romance novel by Carla Neggers (she's not very graphic, well, at least not in the novels I've read by her, that's why I like her). 

Author's Note: I don't exactly know at what point in the show my character comes in. I just put her in wherever. But take note, there are a few changes. Such as, Shelby and Scott are not a couple; they never were nor will be a couple. I'm sorry. I like them as a couple too, but I want him with my character. I love Hayden Christensen. He's so hot. Ahem! _Anyway…_ Feel free to criticize my story and tell me if you see anything wrong with it. I'm not one of those wimpy little girls who's gonna start bawling just because someone found something wrong with her story or just didn't like something about it. If I see fit, I might change whatever it is that I did wrong. If not, stop reading or just bear with it. Without further ado, here's my story…

****

KYLENE'S POV

  
"Kylene, get out of the car."

"Fuck you." 

Those were the last words exchanged between me and my dad the day he dropped me off at Horizon. 

I had been sitting in the back seat of his Mercedes, trying to stay as far away from him as I could possibly manage. It had been hot that day. Humid, actually. By the time we'd reached the parking lot at Horizon, I was sweating and my legs were sticking to the cheap leather interior of the car, and the ride itself had been most unpleasant. Dad had actually made an attempt to "bond" with his daughter—an attempt he hadn't tried in a while. Actually, truthfully, he was just trying to distract himself from the long drive from Illinois to Horizon. At first he tried asking me stupid questions he already knew the answers to, but when I made the obvious clear, he moved onto to subjects and events that had long since gone by and didn't want to be brought up again. When I told him off about that too, he'd had just about enough of my "attitude" and started criticizing me and ridiculing me and telling me about everything he found wrong in my life. I just ignored it though, having been used to this sort of thing for months now. 

It was such a relief when we finally got to Horizon and I was able to relieve myself from that hot, smelly, disgusting car. And I found sitting in that small, stuffy office with two other people named Peter and Sophie, who were obviously counselors here at Horizon, talking about me and looking over my files much more pleasant than sitting alone with Dad while he tried to have a conversation with me (well, that is, until me and Dad got in a fight in front of them…). 

The meeting had been brief. Peter and Sophie seemed like nice people, and I was very surprised when I first met them. We sat and talked for a while and looked over my files, but they never asked me about my problems. No, they seemed to avoid that whole subject, which I was relieved for. The other shrinks I had gone to had asked me right away, as soon as I walked in the room and sat down on that damn couch-bed thing. "What's wrong?" "How can we help you?" "Can you tell us what happened?" (But always after the first meeting, I never came back.) But with these people, that seemed to be the last thing on their minds at the moment. Which, I suppose it was, since they were supposed to be concentrating on getting me settled in and everything. But still, the fact that they didn't peg me with questions made me like them all the more. And now, thinking back on it, I feel a little guilty about how I acted towards them during our meeting.

"Hi Kylene, I'm Peter Scarbrow," the tall dark haired man had greeted me as me and dad walked into their office. "And this is Sophie Becker." He gestured to a pretty blonde woman with big blue eyes sitting beside him behind a rather large desk.

"Hi," I'd said blandly, dropping my bags to the floor and sitting down in one of the chairs they had set up in front of the desk without waiting to be asked. 

"And Mr. Johnson," he'd directed towards Dad. And Dad had put on his fake "I'm a good father, really, I am" act. But I couldn't really tell if Peter and Sophie bought it. They were very reserved people, I noticed. They didn't make their emotions very evident, and usually I'm pretty good about reading other people's emotions. 

"Uh, we have your files here and everything," Sophie said after they'd finished their little introductory chit-chat, taking a familiar looking manila envelope out from one of the drawers of the desk. She opened her mouth to say something more, but I cut her off.

"Can I see it?" I asked. "I've seen that folder passed around so many times, but I've never actually seen what it has to say about me," I said sarcastically and put on a fake smile.

The Sophie woman hesitated, taking a second to glance at Peter before handing me the folder. I opened it and took out the papers it contained. The first paper was just a basic status sheet: 

****

Name: _Kylene Johnson_

Sex: _Female_

Age: _16_

DOB: _April 15, 1986_

Father: _Alex Johnson_

Mother: _Heather Clark Johnson (deceased)_

Legal Guardians: _Rachel Campbell (stepmother)_

Grade admitted: _11th_

Issues: _Manic depression, suicidal attitude, drug and alcohol usage_

"Ha, issues," I murmured to myself, laughing quietly, all the while only partially listening to Sophie and Peter go over the rules and regulations of admitting me there and the rules of having visitors and going home on vacations and such.

****

Background information: _Lives with father and stepmother in Illinois. Has no siblings. Attended Anderson Community Academy in Chicago, Illinois. Honor student. Issues began taking place shortly after biological mother died in car accident. Signs of depression started days after accident. Was caught doing drugs and alcohol three weeks later. Grades started slipping, quit extra curricular courses and dropped out of basketball. Started showing suicidal attitude four days after that. _

I frowned at reading the background information. I felt like a scientific specimen or something to that effect. They were so blunt about the information they gave. 

The other papers were hospital records and such, phone numbers and addresses and notes from previous shrinks I've had. "Yeah, that pretty much explains me," I said once I finished looking through the papers. 

"Is everything all right?" Peter asked me.

"Yep," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "Just peachy." I put the papers back in the envelope and handed them back to Sophie, who set them on the desk before her. 

"Okay, so we have your records and everything," she said. "Um, do you and your father have any questions?"

"When can I leave?" I asked before Dad could say no, knowing that he would have if I hadn't spoken up. 

Peter and Sophie exchange glances at each other. "When you graduate from here," Peter said.

"When will that be?"

"Your senior year."

"What?" I asked, incredulous. Dad had said nothing about me staying here until I graduate from high school. That's two school years including this year. "I thought I could leave as soon as I'm 'cured'," I argued. 

I watched Peter give Dad a look. Obviously they'd talked about this before and I'd been left out. "Yes, well, the only other way you can leave earlier than that is if your father takes you out. And your father has paid for you to remain here until the end of your senior year."

I turned on Dad, now pissed. "You what?" He's promised me that I could leave here as soon as I was better. He'd told me that this was my last shot, and if I made it I could go live with Aunt Flora and everything would be okay again, and now here he was dumping me off at this place for two years. 

"Now, honey, we talked about this," Dad said, trying to cover up his embarrassing screw up.

"Don't call me honey," I snapped. "And no, we never talked about this. You never said I'd have to stay here until I graduate from high school."

"Well, it is a school—"

"Would you like us to leave you two alone, to talk things out?" Peter broke in, him and Sophie getting ready to leave. 

"No, there's nothing to talk about," Dad said sternly, his eyes on me. "She's staying here, and that's final."

"Fuck that," I growled, my temper raging. "There's no way I'm staying here. No way in hell." I stood up to leave, but Dad grabbed my arm, squeezing tight. I winced at his strength and stopped in my tracks. 

"Kylene Rebecca Johnson, none of that. You're staying here and that's that," Dad hollered, and for a minute I knew fear. Whenever he used my full name I knew that wasn't good. I felt myself literally cringe, and I looked over at Peter and Sophie to see their expressions.

They both looked a little stricken at the scene we were making here, and I noticed they had their attention focused on where Dad was holding me, the grip he had on me. Dad must've noticed too, for he dropped my arm like it was on fire and backed away from me. I saw his face turn a bright shade of red right before he started edging towards the door, preparing to make his escape. "Well, I must be going," he stammered quickly, making excuses so he could leave, something about work and traffic. "Call me with all the information later," he said to Peter. And with that, he whirled around and made his exit. 

And without thinking, I pushed past him and bolted out the door, leaving my bags behind in their office. I ran to the car, got in the back seat and locked myself in. Dad, Peter and Sophie came running out. Dad was pissed. His face was beat red and his eyes were nothing but tiny little slits. I felt another twinge of fear as I watched him from the car window. I knew he wouldn't hit me, especially in front of these people. He usually only hit me when he was really drunk, or on rare occasions when I somehow managed to get him really, really pissed off and he lost his temper. But still, he could get really scary when he was mad. 

Dad just looked at me for a minute without even speaking. He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flared, and trying to control his temper. I could feel tears beginning to sting my eyes, and I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to control them. I looked Dad straight in the eye and I told him exactly how I felt at that moment. "I hate you," I told him through the tiny open crack in the window, my voice shaky as I spoke. 

His expression didn't change any as he stepped up to the car and tried to open my door, but found it locked. "Get out of the car, Kylene," he said.

"No."

"I said _get out_ of the car, Kylene," he repeated. 

"No!" I screamed. "I wanna go back home. I wanna go live with Aunt Flora."

"You can when this is all over."

"No."

"Kylene, please," Sophie begged. "Come with us. We can discuss how long you'll stay with us later. Maybe we can work something out."

That was all bullshit. I knew it was. I didn't move.

I watched Dad's expression change from just pissed off to dangerously pissed off. "Get out of the car, Kylene."

I felt a tear escape my left eye, and I bit down on my lip hard, closing both eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming. Knowing that I was loosing this battle, I unlocked the door and got out of the car. 

"Fuck you," I said to Dad, putting as much hate as I could muster into it. 

He ignored me as he got in the car and then drove off. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see Sophie. She gave me a sympathetic look and led me back into their office, Peter following closely behind. "Are you all right?" she asked once we were back inside. 

I nodded but didn't say anything. 

She cleared her throat. "I know you don't want to stay with us, Kylene," she said, speaking softly, comfortingly. "But, really, we're not so bad. Once you get used to things and accept them, time seems to fly by. If everything goes well, you should be out of here in no time. Okay?" 

I looked up at her, and her face was so sincere and her eyes were filled with such honesty I couldn't think of anything else to do but agree. She gave me a small smile and patted me on the back. 

"Welcome to Horizon," she said light-heartedly. 

"Thank you," I said, my voice a little cracked up. 

"Well, now, let's see if we can get you settled in, hmm? You'll be with our group, the Cliffhangers—"

"The Cliffhangers?"

"Yes. I'll get one of the girls to show you around and get you settled into a dorm, all right?"

I nodded and went to grab my bags that were sitting on the floor, but Peter stopped me. 

"We'll have to check your bags first," he told me. 

"For what?" I asked, confused. 

"For drugs, alcohol, anything you might be able to use to harm yourself." 

"What the hell is this?" I asked, suddenly angry again. First they wanted to keep me here for two full years, and now they were going to go through all my belongings? I felt like I was going into a prison more than a school/rehab thing. 

"Just a basic procedure," he explained. "We do it with all the kids who first come here."

I glared at him but didn't bother to put up an argument. I'd had enough arguing for one day. Without saying another word, I turned to Sophie and let her lead me down the hall and out a back door leading to the outdoors. We walked around outside for a while, all the while she filled me in about Horizon, what it was like and what the rules were. I only paid attention to about half of them as I was looking all around me, checking the place out. This whole place just screamed campground. We were surrounded by thick forest and tall mountains. There were only a couple buildings. There was the main office building, and Sophie pointed out the mess hall and the girls' dormitory and the boys' dormitory. Most of the classes took place outside, she told me. And in the woods is where they went hiking, rappelling, canoeing, wind surfing, hang-gliding, and kayaking. I felt a little better at knowing about the outdoor activities. I'm an outdoor kind of girl, so that easily pleased me. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I'd thought to myself at the time. Maybe if I just treat it like it was summer camp or something, I could get through this easier. 

We finally met up with someone who went here, and Sophie called out to her, "Daisy!" 

The girl whirled around at the sound of her voice, her shoulder length brown hair snapping around her shoulders at the movement. She was just a little shorter than me, with dark eyes and a pretty, round face. In fact, I thought she was very pretty. She looked like your typical, normal teenager dressed in baggy khaki pants, a gray ¾ sleeve T-shirt and a pair of Adidas sneakers. "Yeah?" the girl called Daisy asked.

"This here's a newbie, she'll be joining our group," Sophie said, gesturing towards me. "Kylene, this is Daisy. Daisy, this is Kylene."

"Hi," we both said in unison.

"Do you think you could be her buddy for a bit, help her get settled in and maybe show her around?" Sophie asked.

"Sure," Daisy said cheerfully, offering me a friendly smile. 

Sophie left and Daisy and I started heading off towards the dorms. "So, you just get here?" she asked as we walked.

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago, actually," I replied.

"Ah. Where you from?" 

"Illinois." 

"Chicago?" 

"Yeah…how'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." She shrugged. "So you a city girl?"

"Not really. I hate the city."

"Oh, then you'll love it here. Surrounded by woods, mountains, the only people around you are the people who work here and attend this place." 

"Joy," I said sarcastically. 

Daisy let out a light chuckle. "You sound so pleased to be here." She was trying to lighten my mood, but it wasn't working very well. When she found this out, she decided a different approach. "Well, don't worry. I was the same way when I first came here. But once you get used to everything, things aren't so bad." 

I was getting sick of hearing that, 'Once you get used to everything, things aren't so bad'. "Is that seriously how you feel about this place, or do they tell you to say that to the 'newbies'?" 

That brought another laugh out of her. "No. Well, I mean, this place isn't perfect. It's got its ups and downs. It's like a regular school mixed with a rehab and wilderness camp. It's weird, really. The school part, well, you know, sucks. That's just how school is. And…the rehab part is…well, it's hard…" she trailed off on that subject, seeming not to really want to talk about it, "And the wilderness stuff can be fun. I like the outdoors, but I'm not a very athletic person." 

I couldn't help but smile at her personality. Although, I couldn't help but feel like there was more to her, a deeper, darker side that she was hiding. But still, she was my best friend at the moment. She was helping me forget about what happened just minutes ago. 

"What are the people like here?" I asked her, forcing myself to become involved in the conversation so she wasn't the one doing all the talking. 

She wrinkled her nose in thought. "Some are nice, some aren't so nice, ya know?" 

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. 

By then we had reached the dorms, and Daisy led me inside. I realized it wasn't like regular dorms. The rooms were rather large, meant to hold a lot of people, I'd guess about four or five to a room. And they didn't have beds like I'd expected; they had bunk beds instead. Daisy showed me the rooms, the bathrooms and where we took showers and stuff. "You'll be staying with our girly group," Daisy said as she led me into one of the rooms.

"The Cliffhangers?"

"Yep. But the boy Cliffhangers are in the boys' dorms, of course."

"Who are the other Cliffhangers?" 

"Well, let's see. There's me, and now you. There's Ezra, Auggie, Shelby, Scott, Jules and Kat. And you've already met Sophie, and I assume Peter. They're our counselors." 

"Where are they now?" 

"It's lunch time right now, so they'll all be in the mess hall. I was heading over there right before Sophie caught me. Wanna go over and meet 'em and maybe grab a bite to eat?" 

I didn't feel like meeting any more people at the time, nor did I feel like eating anything, but I felt bad for disturbing Daisy's lunch, so I agreed to go. We walked over to the mess hall, and I was greeted with the sounds of numerous kids sitting around talking and eating, some still walking around, getting their lunch as we walked through the door. She led me over to a table at the far end of the room, where a group of people was sitting at. 

"Hey, guys," Daisy said, making our presence known. "Newbie here." She turned to me. "Kylene, this is Ezra." She pointed to a boy sitting at one end of the table with dark, wild, curly hair, dark eyes, thick eyebrows and a warm, friendly face, who in turn said to me, "Hi." 

"Hey," I said shyly, offering him a small smile. 

"That's Juliette, but we all call her Jules," Daisy said, pointing to the girl sitting next to Ezra with long, dark hair, just about as dark as mine, except hers was straight and mine was curly with a few streaks of red in it and was a little shorter. 

"Heya," Juliette said.

Daisy pointed to a black girl sitting on the other side of Juliette. "And that's Katherine. On the other side we have Auggust, also known as Auggie," a rather handsome, Italian looking boy sitting across from Juliette, "Shelby," a pretty, slightly preppy looking blond girl, "and Scott." 

When my eyes fell on Scott, I was like…_whoa_. He had wild, spiked up blond hair, tan skin, deep blue eyes, and beautiful full lips. He was gorgeous. Possibly the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. I can't recall ever seeing a guy with lips like his. They were full—but not too full—and smooth and beautifully sculpted. I bit down on my lower lip, completely oblivious to the fact that I was staring at his mouth, wondering what it'd be like to kiss—

"Everyone, this is Kylene," Daisy said, introducing me last and jarring me out of my thoughts. "She's a Cliffhanger now." 

The rest of the gang who hadn't already said their hellos said them then. 

"You want something to eat?" Daisy asked me. "Because if you do, I'm heading up now…" 

"No thanks," I said, shaking my head. "I'm fine." 

"Okay," Daisy said, shrugging. And with that, she turned and departed from us. 

Scott scooted over a bit and pulled out a chair for me. "Have a seat," he said, his deep voice sending tingles down my spine. I found that my hands were shaking as I sat down beside him and pulled my sleeves over them, trying to hide them. Damn nerves. I was usually pretty cool about these things, why was this happening now? I just hoped my voice wouldn't be as shaky if he tried speaking to me directly. 

"Kylene, right?" the girl on the other side of Scott, Shelby, said. 

"Y-Yes," I stammered. _Damn it all._

"So, Kylene, did you just get here?" Juliette asked. 

"Yes."

"Where are you from?" Auggie asked.

"Illinois."

I was pegged with so many questions I felt like I was one of those famous movie stars being questioned by reports or something. I wasn't used to being the center of attention. I was more used to being one amongst the group, or off to the side, never the center. We talked for a while about this and that, them telling me about Horizon and their general experiences of living here. Daisy eventually came back and joined in on our conversation. 

Every now and then I'd steal a glance at Scott, and in turn sometimes I'd catch him glancing back at me, making me slightly blush. Was he attracted to me too? I wondered, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach at the thought. It'd been so long since I was last attracted to a guy, or had a guy attracted me—well, to my knowledge, anyway. But that changed when I saw the look on Shelby's face. Uh-oh. Was she his girlfriend? Or just a jealous on-looker? Still, feeling rather bummed and embarrassed about the whole thing, I forced myself to refrain from looking at him again through out the rest of the lunch period. 

After lunch everyone had to go back to their classes, so Daisy dropped me back off at the main office so I could talk to Peter and Sophie about setting up my schedule and stuff. Peter gave me back my bags after finding that there were no drugs or alcohol or razors or anything that I could use to harm myself and told me I was good to go. But he informed me that he'd taken my Nicotine patches and said that I'd have to come by every day to get one. Sophie then sat me down and talked to me about setting up my classes and we came up with a schedule. By then it was nearing three o' clock and I was totally exhausted and craving a cigarette. Sophie said I was free for the rest of the day and I could do whatever I wanted, within reason, of course.

Since I knew that having a cigarette wasn't an option, I opted to taking another walk around the campus. I'd be fine for now. I'd had my last cigarette before I came here. I just started the patch today, though. But it was helping, sort of. After walking around for about ten minutes of walking, my legs and back were aching, so I headed for the dorms and decided I'd unpack my things and then take a nap. I slept for three hours, till about six. 

And now here I lie on my top bunk, staring up at the ceiling, still thinking about today's events, what happened at lunch today mostly. I can't stop thinking about that Scott guy. I can still picture his face in my mind. I realize now that I'd been so wrapped up in the way his face looked that I hadn't even noticed the rest of him. I laugh at that. But just his face alone makes him like a Greek god. It's not right for a guy to be that good looking. He wasn't the pretty boy type. He was definitely masculine, with his high cheekbones, firm jaw and the little dimple in his chin that I find absolutely adorable. But those lips. God, how I love his lips. They were awfully distracting. And his eyes. They were a deep blue, intense. I could get lost in his eyes easily if I looked at them long enough. 

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of these thoughts. These are dangerous thoughts. That Shelby girl was glaring at me at the table for the looks I was giving Scott. I can't help but still feel embarrassed about that. I'm a little afraid to face Shelby tomorrow. Will she tell me to back off? I hope not. I guess I'll just have to bear things out tomorrow. 

The others seemed nice too. But I can't help but feel the same feeling that there was a deeper, darker side to them that they were hiding from me like I had felt with Daisy. But then again, I decide that's normal, considering all the people here have their own demons, including me, as much as I hate to admit it. That's why they're here, after all, right? 

Classes start at eight o' clock tomorrow. _Great_. I wish I had come here earlier and started off with everybody else. But Dad hadn't decided to put me in here until the last time I really pissed him off, which was about three weeks ago. I recall the fight we had with disgust. It had been pretty bad, one of the worst we've ever had. Not physically, but emotionally. 

"Your coach called me today," Dad had said to me after I'd walked in the door after coming home from a friend's house. "She said you haven't been coming to practices for weeks." 

I turned my back to him and walked into the kitchen, ignoring him as he spoke to me. He followed me and stood in the doorway. "What's going on?" he asked. 

I didn't reply as I went into the refrigerator to get a drink of orange juice.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," I replied finally.

"Then what the hell's going on? She says she's been trying to get a hold of me for weeks and you've been telling her that I'm away?" 

"You were, most of the time," I said as I got out a glass and poured some orange juice into it. My words were slightly slurred, but Dad didn't seem to notice.

"That's not the point. Why were you keeping this from me?" 

I sighed and braced the edge of the kitchen counter with my hands, still not turning around to face him. "I don't want to do it anymore, Dad. I can't do it."

"What? Why?"

"I have no desire to play basketball anymore." 

"How can you say that? You've quit everything else. Guitar lessons, dancing lessons, art lessons and now this? You used to love all those things and now suddenly you're just giving them all up?"

"_Used to_, Dad, those are the key words." 

"And to top those off, your grades are slipping. People are beginning to wonder, Kylene. You used to always make honor role." 

Another sigh, this time an exasperated one. "Yeah, well…"

"Well, what?" Dad raised his voice. He was getting impatient. "I'm not too happy with the fact that you're doing drugs too, but could you at least manage to keep your grades up and go to your practices so people don't find out?"

I frowned. "What does it matter, Dad?" I spat. "You don't care about _me_, you care about what other people think. All that matters is your precious reputation. It was shattered when your wife committed suicide, what harm does your daughter's life going into corruption do to it?" 

I heard footsteps behind me and I felt him forcefully grab my shoulder and jerk me around to face him. I raised my hands in front of me in defense. "I told you never to talk about her," he said, his voice dangerously low. He looked at my face, noticing my bloodshot eyes and my pale face. "You've been doing drugs again, haven't you?" he asked, sounding disgusted. 

"But you know I'm right," I retorted, ignoring his question about me doing drugs. 

"Your mother didn't commit suicide. She died in a car accident."

"That's just what the police say. But you and I both know she drove off that road on purpose." 

"And my reputation _isn't_ shattered," he said, changing the subject. "And that's not all I care about. Rachel's worried about you." 

"Oh, that's priceless. My stepmother's worried about me, but my own father isn't." 

His face was turning a light shade of red now. His brows were furrowed together, his lips pressed firmly together as he fought for some self-control. I was a little frightened. He wasn't very good at controlling his anger. Rachel was good at it though. He truly loved her. He'd do anything for her. All she had to do was put on arm on his shoulder or say his name and usually he calmed down. But she's not here, and there have been times when even she hadn't been able to control him. Times I don't want to think about…

"Don't try my patience," he growled. "I stopped worrying about you a long time ago."

"Right after mom died," I said. 

"Maybe even before," he said, taking me off guard. 

I couldn't stop the tears that flowed from my eyes. I thought I'd made myself immune to him, to his harsh words. But I found it still hurt. It hurt so much. 

"If I could I'd get rid of you right now."

"Why don't you?" I spat, my voice audibly cracking with my tears. 

He paused, as if taking a second to think. "Rachel." 

"She thinks you still care about me."

"She's a fucking optimist." 

"If she wasn't here you'd get rid of me in an instant," I said, more for my own sake to hear than his.

He nodded. "Damn straight. In fact, I think I will."

My tear drenched eyes widened in confusion. "What?" 

"I'll tell Rachel I can't handle you anymore. That I have to send you away."

"No…" 

"Yes. You remember that Mt. Horizon place I told you I'd send you to if you didn't straighten out?" 

Horror struck me. It was what I'd been fearing. No. Not another one of those rehab places. No, please, no. "No, Dad. Not there. Please, don't. Send me to live with Aunt Flora. She'll take me in. She'd be more than happy to take me in." 

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head. "It's about time I punished you for the way you've been acting. And I think this'll do just the trick."

"I wonder why!" I screamed, tears flowing faster down my cheeks now. "Look at _you_! Look at our _family_! And you wonder _why_ I'm screwed up!?" 

I was silenced by Dad's hand coming into contact with my right cheek, hitting me hard, forcing my head to snap to the side. I cried out as pain shot through my cheek and down my neck. 

"Shut the fuck up!" he hollered. "I didn't do anything wrong! If anything it was you and your fucked up mother!" 

My bottom lip trembled and I bit down on it to stop myself to breaking out into sobs. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to stand up for my mother. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I was scared, hurt, very hurt. I was scared he'd hit me again. I was scared that if I said anything he'd only say more. So instead, I hugged my arms close and sank down to the floor, buried my face in my arms and began sobbing violently, my back hitching with each sob. 

"I'm calling Horizon tomorrow," Dad said, still looming over me. "I'll talk to Rachel tonight." 

I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. I was so scared, so tired. I felt nothing for this man but pure hate. And right at that moment, and only for that moment, I felt glad that I'd be leaving him and going to Horizon. 

  
----

A tear falls from my eye and lands on my pillow, leaving a little gray wet mark. That had to be one of the worst days of my life, besides the day when mom died. A lot of what he'd said that day still hurt me today. What he said about me and my mom. And even still now, I don't understand why he hates me and her so. Well, me, actually, I can understand a little. I'm the only child he has. The only reminder he had of my mother. But other than that, I don't see why. And mom…what had she ever done to receive such hatred from him? 

Thinking about this is useless, I decide, snuggling closer into my pillow. All it's going to do is cause confusion and pain. That's all it's ever done. Just forget it. Try to forget it all. Everything that happened. Mom…

"Kylene?" 

I hear Daisy's voice call from outside the room right before I hear the door begin to open. I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping she'll go away. I don't want to face them again. Not now. Not when I've been crying. I feel the light from the hallway filter into our room and shine over my face. I hear Daisy walk over to my bunk, and then the light is blocked out as I assume Daisy is standing right in front of me. 

"Kylene?" she tries again. "It's dinner time. You wanna come eat?" 

I remain as possibly still as I can manage, while trying to keep my breath steady, as though I were really sleeping. After a few seconds of standing there and waiting for a response from me that won't come, she turns and leaves, closing the door behind her. 

__

Phew, I think, letting out a sigh of relief. I sit up a bit to grab the quilt at the end of my bed and pull it over me, preparing to go to sleep for the rest of the night. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As you all know, I don't own Higher Ground or any of the characters from Higher Ground, but I do own Kylene, her family, and whatever other original characters that I might think up.

Author's Note: Wow, I'm really surprised at the positive reviews I got. Thank you all so much! Well, anyway, here's the second chapter. Sorry it took so long. You know how it is, with schoolwork and all. But, um, one thing…I can't help but feel I've got my time lining all wrong here somehow. If you think so too please let me know. And also, Juliette (I like writing out her full name, it's spelled so cool) and Auggie are a couple in this, and I'm sorry for you Shelby fans that I make her seem like a cold, heartless bitch in this chapter, but I assure you, that will change in later chapters. You'll understand why I made her a bitch when you read this chapter. Oh and also, I gave their school block scheduling for some reason. I don't know why. But anyway, without further ado, here's the second chapter…

****

SCOTT'S POV

"Yo, Scott, stay awake," Auggie says, jarring me out of my half spacing out, half sleeping state, poking me with the end of his pencil. "Were you up all night last night or something?" 

I look over at him with half-lidded eyes that were getting harder and harder to keep open by the minute. "What do you think?" I ask him, rubbing at the bags under my eyes. 

"The homework wasn't _that_ hard last night," he jokes. 

"It wasn't that," I say slowly while trying to stifle a yawn at the same time. "I've got full moon fever, it seems. I just couldn't get to sleep."

"Ah, I've gotten that a few times," Auggie agrees, nodding. "But are you sure it was just that? Or were you thinking about the new girl?" he smirks, grinning wryly. 

"Kylene?" 

"Don't deny it. I saw the way you were lookin' at her during lunch yesterday." 

"Nah, man. She's cute, but not cute enough to keep me up all night." 

"Could've fooled me." 

"Kiss off, Auggie." I open my mouth to say more, but am cut off by another voice. 

"Now, none of that language." Auggie and I both turn to the right to see Mr. Harold walking towards our group sitting at one of the picnic tables outside. "If I hear anymore bad talk coming from you, Mr. Barringer, you'll have a half hour's detention with me after classes," he says as he walks over to one of the vacant tables and sets his book bag down. 

I roll my eyes. Mr. Harold. The eleventh grade English teacher. He had to be one of the strictest and grumpiest teachers there were. And his class goes by the slowest. Through most of the class period he'd lecture, and he'd talk in this annoying monotone voice that nearly drives me insane. He looked more like a computer whiz than an English teacher, decked out in high water dress pants, dress shirt, socks and penny loafers and thick glasses. He's, what, in his mid-fifties? And he still hasn't learned how to groom his own hair--well, actually, more like the remains of what's left of his brownish-going-gray hair--which is always messy and wild. 

"All right, class, please open your books to last night's assignment and get out your homework," Mr. Harold says, officially beginning the class. 

"Hold up, Mr. Harold," Peter's voice comes from behind. I turn around yet again to see Peter coming toward us with Kylene walking by his side. "You've got a new student," Peter says once he's reached our group. He looks over at Kylene and wraps an arm around her shoulder. "Mr. Harold, this is Kylene Johnson. She just transferred here yesterday."

"Oh. Well, welcome, Kylene. I'm sorry, I totally forgot about you, Sophie told me I'd be getting a new student last night. I left your textbook back in my office. If you'll excuse me for a minute, I'll go retrieve it for you." 

Kylene just kinda stands there awkwardly, not saying a word. Her dark, curly, shoulder length hair hangs freely around her shoulders, and she's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, a white shirt and a green plaid long sleeved button-up shirt over that with a dark purple backpack hanging off one shoulder. Her brown-green eyes were surveying the area around her, looking at who was here. 

"All right then," Mr. Harold says, clearing his throat. "Class, be good while I'm gone. Why don't you all introduce yourselves to Miss Johnson, hmm?" And with that, he walks away. 

No one bothers to introduce themselves, of course. Peter stands there with Kylene for a little longer, whispering something to her. She nods her head and then he walks away. Still standing there awkwardly, she looks around expectantly, seeming to be waiting for someone to offer her a seat or just make room for her at one of the picnic tables. I willingly make space for her to come sit with us--us being, me, Auggie, Katherine and Ezra. 

"Hey, Kylene," I say. "Come sit over here." I pat on the empty seat beside me, further encouraging her to come and sit. She walks over to us silently and sits down. 

"So, how ya doin'?" Auggie asks.

"Fine," Kylene replies groggily. 

"You look tired," Katherine observes.

"I am. I couldn't fall asleep till late last night."

"I wouldn't doubt it. You took quite a nap yesterday after lunch," Ezra says.

"Uh, yeah," she says, sounding somewhat uncomfortable. She licks her full lips. "I had a long trip yesterday…" 

"All right, class, I'm back." Mr. Harold comes walking back with a textbook in hand for Kylene. He hands it to her and then walks back over to his book bag and takes out his things. "Did you all introduce yourselves to Miss Johnson?" When none of says anything, he lets out a sigh, rolls his big eyes that are magnified by his glasses and says, "Fine then. Why don't we take a minute to do that? Let's start over at this end," he says, pointing to the first picnic table on the right of us. "When I point to you, please stand up and state your full name." He points to a short black haired girl. 

She stands up. "Anna Jackson."

I lean in closer to Kylene and whisper, "Major drama queen right there." 

Next, a gawky red head with freckles. "Billy Randel."

"Pee Wee Herman wanna-be." 

"Kristina Wilkins."

"She's cool."

And so on and so forth. It goes on like that until we've gone through all six of the other students, not including our little group of five, and I name the good or bad things about them, and each time Kylene nods and makes little sounds of acknowledgement. After that's done, Mr. Harold begins our lesson by telling us that we'll be starting Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ tomorrow. He gives us a "small" lecture on _Hamlet_, practically telling us the whole story himself and ruining it for us all, and then he moves onto talking about the author, William Shakespeare. 

Through out the lecture, I steal a few glances at Kylene from time to time, mainly to see what her expressions are, what she's thinking. I was curious as to how she was adapting to this place. Every now and then I catch her staring off into space and chewing on the inside of her cheek or biting her lower lip. I recognize that look. I've had it many times. When I'm craving a cigarette or whatever, I begin gnawing on my lips and I get that distant look. I used to have a really bad habit of it, as I used to crave them really bad, but it's been a few months since I started going to Horizon and I've become used to not having them, with only a few urges every now and then. 

Another thing I notice is that she keeps tugging on the sleeves of her shirt, pulling them down over her hands, like she was trying to hide something. _What could she be hiding? Cuts?_ I wonder. The thought surprises me. Is she suicidal? She doesn't strike me as the type. But that would explain her wearing long sleeved shirts in the warm weather and tugging on her sleeves all the time. "Aren't you hot wearing those clothes in this weather?" I question her quietly midway through the lecture.

She looks over at me, startled, from the question or that I'd asked it, I don't know which. "No," she whispers her reply, still tugging on her sleeves, trying to bring them over her knuckles. She notices my gaze on her arms and moves them onto her lap under the picnic table, hiding them. 

And that is the last we say to each other for the remainder of the class. 

----

I let out a sigh of relief when Mr. Harold finally tells us that class is over. Next is Physics with Mrs. Tanner, which is slightly better than this class. "Hey, what class do you have next?" I ask Kylene as I gather up my books and stuff them in my backpack.

"Um…" She stops gathering her things to take a small sheet of paper out of her pocket and examine it. "Physics," she reads from the paper before stuffing it back into her pocket and then finishing packing her books. 

"Oh, yeah? Me too. I'll lead ya there," I say as I slip my backpack onto my back.

"Okay," she says, repeating my action. 

We begin walking side-by-side, at first saying nothing. After about thirty seconds of silence, I can't stand it anymore and I ask her, "So, what do you think of Mr. Harold?"

She gives me a strange look and says, "He's boring, and I can't stand the way he talks." 

I laugh at that. "Yeah, I hear ya. Mrs. Tanner's a little better though, she doesn't talk half as bad as he does." 

"Ugh," she says disgustedly. "He sounds worse than that guy from the 'Clear Eyes' commercial. It's like he talks through his nose."

"Yeah, really," I agree. "Mrs. Tanner's voice is kinda airy and wispy, ya know?"

"Right now, anything would sound better than listening to his voice for eighty minutes," she says, shaking her head. 

Suddenly, Kylene falls forward and lands flat on her stomach. "Are you all right?" I ask, trying hard not to start laughing at this odd predicament. 

"Ow," is all she says as she rolls over and sits up. She looks up at me and rubs her stomach, where she landed. 

And it is then, seeing her sprawled out on the ground, with her eyes wide and cheeks flushed a light shade of red due to her embarrassment, that I become fully aware of her. I become aware of just how beautiful her dark, curly hair really is, how it looks so natural and alive, and now nicely the red highlights accent it. I'm aware of the uniqueness of her brown-green eyes. Of the oval shape of her face and the creamy white of her skin and the fullness of her slightly parted lips, the dust of freckles over her pert nose and flushed cheeks. Of her long arms and long, artist-like fingers, her slender figure and her long, shapely legs. Why hadn't I noticed this before? Did it really take her falling down and sprawling out on the ground for me to notice? I mean, I did notice she was cute before when I first met her and during English class, but I didn't notice how truly beautiful she was until just now. _How stupid can I possibly be?_

"What happened?" I ask, forcing myself out of my current thoughts. I reach down to help her up.

"I tripped on some--ow, ow!" she cries when my hand grabs her upper arm. I back away quickly and look down at her in confusion. She hadn't fallen on her arm; she'd fallen on her stomach, right? And I hadn't grabbed that tightly onto her arm to cause her any pain. 

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Nothing," she says quickly, looking away from me. She places a hand over the arm I tried to grab and stands up, keeping a little distance between us. "I-I have a bruise there from…from basketball…practice," she explains, her voice unsteady and wavering. 

"Oh…" That's bullshit. She tried to cover it up too quickly, raising my suspicions, and then she made it worse for herself by stammering over her response. She's hiding something. I know it. But I decide to let it go for now. "Well then, c'mon let's go or we'll be late," I say. 

She nods and we both head off to the next class.

****

KYLENE'S POV

__

Smooth, Kylene, real smooth, I scold myself. It's lunchtime now, two hours after that little incident I had with Scott, and I'm still going on about it. I can't help it. Not only did I manage to completely embarrass myself by falling flat on my belly, but I also managed to get him suspicious of me, both during and after English class. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ I mentally kick myself repeatedly, while at the same time keeping my eyes on my plate as I pick apart my lunch with a fork, not wanting to look at him, or anyone else sitting at our table, for that matter. 

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Daisy asks me from her spot beside me. "You're gonna get yourself sick. You haven't eaten anything all morning."

"I had half of a granola bar this morning," I say, not taking my eyes off of my plate. By now I've completely mutilated the chicken breast sitting on my plate, the French fries are in a mess of their own on a separate little plate with the ketchup and my mashed potatoes are covered in salt. 

"Yeah, only _half_. I could hear your tummy grumbling all through Spanish class." When I don't reply and just continue to pick at my food with the fork, she sighs and changes the subject, "Have you met Frank yet?"

"Frank…?"

"Frank Markasian? The head honcho at this place?"

"Oh yeah. Yes, I did. I met him right after you dropped me off at the office."

"What'd he have to say?" she asks.

"Not much," I say, shrugging. "He basically just asked me how things were going, if I was settling in okay and stuff." Daisy nods and goes back to her food.

"So, how do you like it at this place so far?" Juliette asks, her eyebrows arched in curiosity.

I hesitate on my answer. So far, I've had an awful day. The Nicotine patches aren't working very well, I've had a headache since I woke up this morning, truth be known, I am hungry, but I just can't get myself to eat right now, and now I'm beginning to feel sick, and to top it all off, I can't get over what happened between Scott and me. "It's okay, I guess," I say. 

"Just wait it out a couple more days, you'll hate it here by then," Katherine says, winking. "Some of the counselors and teachers here can be real pains in the asses." 

"Mmm," Daisy and Juliette say in unison.

All this school talk has me a little worried. None of the people here have asked me about why I'm here yet. They seem more concerned about me adjusting to this place in general. "How do you like it here?" "Is everything okay?" "What do you think about everything?" over and over. I'm just about ready to scream. Not for them to start asking about _me_, but for them to just _shut up_. Either that or talk about something different, anything different. Just not school. 

"What are you here for, Kylene?" Shelby asks suddenly. 

"Excuse me?" I ask, not quite believing that I heard her right. _Well, that was very straightforward. _

"What are you here for?" she repeats her question, sounding completely innocent, but yet I detect no emotion whatsoever in her voice. She looks me straight in the eye. "We've talked about just about anything else _but_ that."

I look at everyone around me. Auggie, Ezra, Juliette, Katherine, Daisy, Shelby and Scott. They're all looking at me expectantly. I guess they've all been wondering too. "Well, I don't see any of you being open about yourselves, either," I retort, glaring at Shelby. Why was she asking me this? Was she trying to cause trouble? If so, then why? What did I ever do to her? 

"You never asked," she says, her gaze still locked on me.

"Shelby…" Juliette cuts in, giving Shelby a stern look. She looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. "It's okay, Kylene. You don't have to tell us anything."

I ignore her. "Okay then, fine. What's your story?" I ask, deciding to play along with her little game and trying to sound just as unemotional at the same time. 

"I asked you first."

"I…" I take one more look around at all their faces. They look expectant, curious and doubtful all at the same time. I feel a hot flush creep up my cheeks and tears threaten to fill my eyes. _Fuck it. Why the hell do I have to be so damn weak?_ Ever since mom died, I cry so easily now. I never used to cry like this. I used to be strong. What happened? 

"Kylene?" Daisy asks in concern.

"I have to go," I say hastily. I get up from my chair and bolt out the door before anyone can stop me.

****

SHELBY'S POV

Oh, my God! She just ran out on us! What a sissy! Okay, I'll admit, I was a little out of line asking her straight out like that. I mean, she just got here; I can't expect her to pour out about herself to us this soon. But I couldn't help asking. I'm curious. Scott told me he thinks she's suicidal. He said during his English and Physics class she kept pulling at her sleeves, as though trying to hide her whole arm. And he told me about the little incident he had with her outside, when he tried to help her up after she'd fallen, and she'd practically screamed when he laid a hand on her. He didn't know what to make of that, and neither did I, but I bet she is suicidal. I don't feel sorry for asking her. Why should I? I don't trust her. She's trouble. Her past, her present, I can tell it's deep. And the way she's been looking at Scott…the way he's been looking at her… I just don't trust her. 

"What the hell was that, Shel?" Auggie asks once Kylene left the room. 

"What?" I say, making it sound as though I've done nothing wrong. "I just asked her a question." 

"A very inappropriate question," Scott says angrily, frowning at me. "What the hell were you thinking? You don't just _ask_ her like that."

I flinch inwardly a little at Scott's tone of voice and harsh words. 

"And you remember what Peter said, don't try to pry it out of her," Ezra speaks up.

"I wasn't trying to _pry_ it out of her. I just asked her," I say to my defense, placing a hand over my chest in a mock gesture of hurt that he would assume such a thing. 

"She's hasn't even been here for twenty-four hours, Shelby," Juliette says. "Did you honestly think she'd come clean that quickly?" 

"I don't know," I lie. Of course I don't expect her to. 

"You didn't come clean for a while after you came here. Neither did any of us."

"So?"

"So, why should that make her any different?" 

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I have no come back for that. As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Damn her. Oh well. I'm not going to go apologize to her if that's what they're thinking. 

"I'm going to go talk to her," Daisy says, rising from the table. "She's my responsibility." 

"I'll come too," Juliette offers, also rising from the table.

"No. It might be too awkward for her if too many people come. I should just go." 

"All right," Juliette says as Daisy exits through the door. She sits down and leans back in her chair and Auggie drapes an arm over her shoulder. 

"That really wasn't cool, Shel," he says. 

"What, am I supposed to walk on egg shells just 'cause she's new here?" I ask, angry that everyone is taking her side. 

"No, not just because she's new, but because she's a person. Respect that. We respected you, and you've respected us…to an extent…"

"I don't trust her," I say.

"You don't even know her."

"That gives me even more reason not to trust her."

"You won't even give her--"

"Is everything all right?" I turn around in my seat to see Sophie standing in the doorway. She walks up to our group and looks down at us with concern written all over her face. "I just saw Daisy wandering around outside looking for Kylene." 

"What? Daisy lost her?" Katherine asks. 

"Wait. What? Daisy lost her? What do you mean?" she asks, obviously confused. 

"Kylene got upset and ran off…" Ezra explains, trailing off to glance over at me, but not saying another word. 

"Over what?" Sophie asks, sounding even more worried. 

No one answers. No one is going to speak for me. I don't expect them to. Finally Scott speaks up, "Let's go help find her." 

****

KYLENE'S POV

__

Please don't let them find me, I silently pray as I sit on a large flat rock somewhere out in the woods behind campus. I know they're looking for me. I can hear them calling for me. Please, please don't let them find me. I can't face them now. I'm making such a great first impression with these people. "Damn," I mutter to myself. I feel so stupid. I'm still biting down on my bottom lip, trying to stop the tears from coming. I feel like one of those pregnant women going through one of those "moods". But the thing is, I'm not pregnant, and I have these moods quite frequently. Ever since mom died. I can be tough just as long as no one mentions my mother or my family, and if they do all my walls come crashing down and I start crying or I just get mad or really upset. I don't know why. I really don't. It's just a thing with me. I'm mad, ashamed, sad, scared, confused, depressed about them. All those things. I wish none of it happened. Sometimes I wish I didn't have a family. Sometimes I wish I was an orphan and I had no one. Things would be so much simpler then. There wouldn't be so much pain. There'd probably be loneliness, worse loneliness than I feel right now, but I think I could take it. 

"Kylene?"

Oh shit. They found me. I try to stay as still and silent as possible, hoping that they wouldn't see me and they'd go away. 

I see Ezra creep from out behind a tall pine tree. He looks around for a bit before resting his gaze on me. His eyes widen and then switch to a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaims with a smile on his face and walks over to me. "We've been looking all over for you!" 

"I know," I say. 

He sits down beside me on the rock. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah… No… I don't know." 

"You'll have to excuse Shelby. She's not very warm towards people she doesn't know." 

"I noticed." My tone is bitter and unemotional, but I can't help it. I'm so pissed at her right now, even though I shouldn't be this pissed. She was the one at fault for trying to intrude on my personal business, she had no right to try and question me and embarrassing me in front of all of them, but I'm sure she didn't know I'd get that upset. I did overreact. Oh well. What's done is done. 

"But I'm sure when she starts to get to know you better she'll be nicer," he assures me. 

I can't help but smile at his optimistic attitude. "Maybe," I say, trying to my best to conceal my doubt. 

"You ready to go back now? They've got Peter and Sophie searching for you too."

Oh great. Now most likely I'll have to deal with them. "Yeah. Might as well, huh?"

"Yeah." He stands up and offers me his hand. I take his hand and allow him to pull me up. We both walk out of the woods back to campus. Juliette, who was walking around near the dorms, spots us and runs up to us. 

"Ezra, you found her!" she exclaims happily. She looks over at me, her eyes searching mine. "Where were you?" she asks, her voice filled with concern.

"In the woods," I say, feeling suddenly guilty for making these people worried about me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you guys to send out a search party for me."

"Yeah, well, when Sophie told us Daisy couldn't find you, we all kinda panicked."

I bite my lower lip in shame. "Sorry."

"Oh good, you found her." 

We all turn around to see Scott walking towards us with Daisy, Shelby, Auggie, Peter and Sophie following behind. Scott, Auggie, Daisy and Shelby stop some distance away from us, but Peter and Sophie approach us directly. Ezra and Juliette back away when they see the intensity of Peter's gaze and Sophie's concerned facial expression. I find myself cringing and biting my lower lip again too. 

"Are you all right?" Sophie asks. 

"I'm fine," I assure her. I look over at Peter. He doesn't look too happy.

"What happened?" Peter asks me, his gaze burning into me. 

I look away from him and lick my lips nervously. "Nothing," I say, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. "I just…I was just a little upset over a personal matter, that's all." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I'm sorry for making you worry." 

"It's all right," Sophie says soothingly, stepping forward to wrap a comforting arm around my shoulder. "Just, please, don't go running off like that again." 

"I'm sorry," I repeat, still not looking up at either of them. 

"Okay, let's all get back to class, now, you're all late," Peter says sternly. He places a hand on my other shoulder. "Don't forget we have group meeting after dinner," he tells me.

I look up at him then. "Group meeting?"

"Yes. It's a requirement that you go."

"O-Okay…"

----

The end of the day came. The rest of my classes had gone by quickly after my little run-off into the woods. We'd just finished dinner, and I actually ate a full meal for the first time today. I felt better after doing so. But now I was craving a cigarette and a beer, or some other alcoholic beverage. If I was at home, I would've sneaked out my bedroom window after dinner and climbed up onto the roof to fulfill my needs. I was getting a little restless as I helped clear the dishes and clean up after dinner, but no one seemed to notice. 

"So, we change kitchen duties with other groups every week?" I ask Katherine as I place more dishes into a cabinet. 

"Yep. As well as other duties. But working in the kitchen has its advantages," Katherine says with a smile, wiping her hands on one of the dishtowels. "We get to make dinner and dessert too." She grabs one of the remaining chocolate brownies that were left and takes a bite. "Have you had one of the brownies? They're good. I made them myself."

"No, I haven't, but I'll take your word for it," I say, smiling. 

"You guys almost finished in there?" I hear Peter call from outside the kitchen. 

"Yeah!" Katherine calls back. 

Juliette and Daisy walk in the backdoor from outside. "Brr…" Daisy says, shivering, running her hands up and down her arms, trying to get them warm. "It's cold out there."

"Mmm… But the fresh air smells nice," I say, taking a big whiff of the cool air that drifted in when Juliette and Daisy entered. I'd opened up to them a lot within the last few hours. I don't know how or why, but I did. I think it was what Ezra said to me in the woods. His kind, polite personality towards me made me think differently about today's events and try to make the best of it instead of sulking about how things had turned out. 

"Need any help?" Juliette asks. 

"Nope, we're just 'bout finished," Katherine says. "Where's everyone else?"

"Well, we saw Peter walk in here just a second ago. Sophie, Auggie and Ezra are in the main lobby. Scott and Shelby are walking around outside." 

"Yeah, Peter just hollered at us a second ago. He's getting impatient," Katherine says, rolling her eyes. 

"Yes, Peter _is_ getting impatient," Peter says, suddenly walking through the kitchen door and surprising us all. "You guys plan on finishing up sometime tonight?" 

"Done," I say when I've finished putting the last of the dishes away.

Peter looks impressed. "Well, well, well. You're catching on pretty well, Kylene," he says. "All right then, if you're all done, let's head on over to the main lobby and get this meeting started, eh?"

When we walk into the main lobby, I see Sophie talking with Auggie and Ezra over on one of the couches. Scott and Shelby still aren't back from their walk, and I hadn't seen them when we walked over. Almost as if on cue, Scott and Shelby walk in right behind us ten seconds after the thought leaves my mind. 

"Ah, now we can get this started," Sophie says from her spot on the couch. "Sit down, everyone, and let's get this over with."

They start off the meeting by giving announcements about things that are going on around Horizon, things I'm completely clueless about until someone realizes that I am and fills me in. Once that's done, we're left to talk about anything we want. 

"So, is there anything any of you want to bring up in this meeting?" Sophie asks, looking at each and every one of us. "Kylene? Is everything going all right? Are your classes all right? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," I say, forcing myself not to let out a sigh of annoyance. I've been asked that so many times today it's not even funny. But I must tolerate it. They're just trying to be kind and do their job. 

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Peter asks. "Anything you have questions about?"

I shake my head. "Nope." I had held my breath during his first question, at first thinking he was implying about my personal life. 

"Oh, and one more thing," Sophie says. "Your dad called earlier. He told us to tell you that you forgot to pack something and he'd send it to you through the mail."

I frown. "He did?" As far as I can remember, I didn't forget anything. I'll have to check my bags later. 

"Mmm-hmm. Well, I think that's all. You guys are dismissed."

I'm the first to get up, and I walk outside onto the porch. There is a gentle breeze coming in from the north. I can see the sun setting over the horizon, the sky lighting up in red, orange and pink hues and I can see the first sign of stars glittering the sky. It's beautiful. The soft chirping of crickets can be heard coming from the grass near the woods, and I hear the rustling of leaves in the trees. I haven't heard these sounds in so long. Where I live, in Chicago, the city, where you don't hear many forest sounds. I find I've missed it. I used to hear it all the time when we used to live in Virginia, before Dad moved there due to a really good job offer. 

Dad… I can't help but feel a little uneasy. Something tells me that Dad is up to something. Although, I possibly could have forgotten something that I might need. I'll check right before I go to bed. 

"Kylene?" I hear Daisy call from the doorway of the main lobby.

"Yeah?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the pretty scenery. 

"Just checking on you. Everything okay?"

I close my eyes, letting out a deep sigh. **_Please_**, stop asking me that. I'm fine. "Yeah."

"Okay," she says, and then goes back inside, closing the door behind her. 

__

I could **really** go for a cigarette right now.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, you know the drill. 

Author's Note: Well, here it is, finally, Chapter Three. I apologize that it took so long. School has been very hectic for me lately. I can't wait until Spring break. Also, I want you all to know, this chapter isn't very good--well, basically I think it sucks. It didn't turn out quite how I wanted it to, not much really happens here. But I promise you, the next chapters will be better, at least I hope they will. Please read and review and feel free to criticize or point out any mistakes I've made and such. Thank you. 

****

KYLENE'S POV

I was right. There was nothing I forgot at home that I'd need here. I have all my clothes, personal essentials, school supplies, my scrapbook--all was here. But that wasn't a good thing. _This_ means that Dad is up to something. And _this_ is going to keep me up all night worrying. I can remember back when I was packing, Dad was making damn well sure I packed everything--and when I say 'making damn well sure', I mean he was yelling and bitching at me. I have a feeling if my suspicions are right; I'm _not_ going to like that something that he's up to. 

I stare up at the ceiling, while at the same time trying to clear my head so that I can get some sleep. Everyone else in the room is fast asleep. What time is it? I could just roll over and peek down at the alarm clock on the bed stand beside the bunk beds. But every time I roll over on this bed it creaks and I can't help but feel paranoid that the wood might fall through and I'd end up crushing Juliette beneath me. It must be after midnight, maybe even getting close to one o' clock. The only sounds that I can hear is the soft breathing of Shelby, Juliette and Daisy, and the not so soft snoring coming from Katherine. 

Ugh, this isn't helping! When I try to think about something else, my mind just keeps wandering back to Dad, and then I begin to worry even more. And when I try not to think at all I end up thinking of how tired I am and how I can't get to sleep. 

Throwing the covers aside, I decide to get up and go for a walk. I know it's still early, and most likely it's still cold outside, but I can't stand just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling all night. When I climb down the ladder propped up on the right end of my bed, my feet are greeted by the cold wooden floor, which actually feels good after being covered by a sheet and quilt for a couple of hours. I slowly pad my way across the floor to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible and avoiding the wooden boards that I think might creak under my weight. When I reach the door, I open it about one fourth of the way and peek outside to check and see if the coast is clear. Seeing that it is, I cautiously make my way outside. 

The sky is dark and littered with millions of stars when I step out onto the porch. There isn't a cloud in the sky, and the crescent moon hangs low tonight. I can see big clusters of stars, and I bet if I took the time to look I could find some of the constellations. It's a beautiful sight. But I'll admit it is quite cold. It takes me out of my sleepy state and makes me more aware of my surroundings. 

The campus looks a lot different at night, I notice as I walk in a random direction. Everything's so dark and gray. The wood of the cabins is a silvery color under the moonlight and the surrounding trees are almost black. It looks sort of mystical in a way. I'm suddenly tempted to go head over to the dock that I had seen earlier. The lake there must look beautiful with the moonlight reflecting off its water. 

But as I'm walking in the direction of the dock, I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. Startled, I whirl around in the direction that I saw the movement, expecting to see a raccoon or some other animal scurrying around out here. But, to my relief, I see nothing. Another movement catches my eye, coming from the main office, and I look up to see Scott sitting on the front porch.

"Scott?" I call out softly; squinting in the dark to make sure the darkness isn't playing tricks on me. He lifts a finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he murmurs. With his other hand he makes a 'come hither' gesture. I oblige, walking up onto the porch and sitting down beside him on the cold wooden boards. "What're you doing out here so late?" he asks me once I've settled down beside him. 

"Couldn't sleep," I tell him. "What 'bout you?" 

"Same reason." 

Silence falls over us as, so it seems, neither of us know what to say to one another, and he turns his attention up to the sky. 

I take this opportunity to check him out. He's clad in a pair of dark blue drawstring flannel sleeping pants and a big baggy gray tank top. His blond hair is tousled and messy, which is sexy, I think. His face is serious, his skin, which is usually tan in the light, looks to be an olive color in the moonlight. His eyes are half lidded and his lips are as full as ever. He rests up against one of the polls on the porch, his torso slumped over and one long arm resting over one bent knee and the other resting on the thigh of the other long leg. I like his legs, the fact that they're long. His height is in his legs--which is almost a head taller than my height of 5' 9"--rather than in his torso. Not that I'm complaining about his torso. From what I can see, he has a very nice chest, which is strong looking, with corded muscles rippling all through them. He has an athletic build, not the disgusting, bulging muscle build. 

After a while I direct my eyes back up to his face and see that he's watching me. I avert my gaze from him and down to the ground, feeling embarrassed that he'd caught me checking him out. I clear my throat and lick my lips. "So, uh…" I begin, not having the slightest inkling of what to say to him. I hear him chuckle, and I can almost sense the smile on his lips. 

"So, uh…how are things holding up?" he asks me.

"…Okay, I guess…I really don't know."

"It's not because of Shelby, is it?" he asks, sounding concerned, for me or his friend I don't know. "'Cause if it is, you have to understand, she's not exactly…well…she's not very warm or welcoming towards people she doesn't know."

"I've heard," I say, recalling Ezra's words he said to me in the woods. 

"Yeah. She's got a hard shell. You gotta find just the right place to crack it, ya know?" 

"I…guess," I say, actually considering what he was saying. It was better to at least try and make friends with her rather than becoming rivals with her when I'll be staying here for a while and seeing her all the time, right? "She's not the only reason, though."

"What…other reasons…are there?" he asks me cautiously, as though he was treading over dangerous grounds. 

"Just…a lot of things," I say, shrugging it off as though it were nothing, but secretly hoping he wouldn't question me any further. He nods his head in understanding, but doesn't say another word about it. We sit in silence for a while, both of us looking up at the stars. 

"Are you an artist?" he asks me suddenly out of the clear blue.

"Huh?" I ask, momentarily confused until the question sinks in. "Oh. Uh, yeah, sorta, I guess. I mean, I took lessons, but I dunno if I'm good enough to be actually qualified as an artist. Why do you ask?" 

"I could tell by yours hands," he says, gesturing towards my hands that are sitting in my lap. "You have nice, long fingers." I lift them and look at them self-consciously. I've been aware for years that they were long, but I've always hated them. I think they make me look awkward. This is the first time someone's ever complimented me on them.

"Oh… Thank you, I guess," I say. "And what about you? Were you a runner at your school or something? You have the legs for it." 

"Football player, actually. I did a lot of running in that, though." 

"Ah." 

"You play any sports?" 

I scrunch up my nose at the thought of me playing sports. "Nah. Playing the guitar and writing songs is more my kinda thing." 

"You write songs?" he asks, quirking a brow at me in question. 

"More or less…among other things," I say, blushing. I'm not one to be usually comfortable about talking to someone about my interests and hobbies, or as some people call it, my "talent". I don't believe I have any talent.

"So, wait," he says, "you're an artist, you play the guitar _and_ you write songs…among other things? What other things?" 

"…I don't know," I say, shrugging. "Poetry…a lot of gibberish. Yeah, mostly gibberish." 

A smile tugs on those beautiful, full lips. "I'd like to see some of your gibberish sometime." 

I can feel a hot flush creep up to my cheeks. "Yeah…maybe…some day," I say, my voice lowering to a whisper, my gaze falling back down to the ground. It's a good thing my journal isn't here. I never take that thing anywhere. It stays in my room, buried in the bottom of a box under my bed where no one can find it. What's written in that journal is totally confidential. No one has ever read from it, or even seen it for that matter, besides me. 

"Are you…cold?" he asks, gesturing a hand towards my body that is clad in only a light pair of purple pajama pants with blue moons on them and a matching long sleeved pajama top. 

I shrug and shake my head. It was pretty cold, but not to the point where I was shivering and couldn't stand it. But then I notice that his gaze is focused on my chest area, and I look down to see my nipples perking up through the thin cotton fabric. I gasp, horrified and utterly embarrassed, my arms flying up to cover myself. 

****

SCOTT'S POV

__

Whoops. Shouldn't have said that. I watch as Kylene's green-brown eyes widen in shock and her arms fly over her breasts in a crisscross fashion to conceal them from my view. I couldn't help myself. She was just sitting there looking so innocent, and so completely oblivious to the state her breasts were in, it didn't seem right to take advantage of her like that. I kind of regret saying anything to her now, though. It was actually kind of a turn on. She had nice full, round breasts, and I had a pretty good view of them through her tank top. But then I had to go and say something and now she was covering them up. Oh well. Just was well. She would have figured it out just by the way I was looking at her alone, anyway. 

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, trying to sound as apologetic as I possibly could. 

"N-No, no. I-it's okay…" she says, eyeing my warily, her arms still firmly wrapped around herself. 

I feel like shit for not really giving a damn about the fact that I've embarrassed her, but it's hard to feel sorry for her when she looks so damn sexy. With her long hair hanging wildly about her shoulders, gently swaying across her shoulder blades in the midnight breeze, her ivory skin so pale she looks like she was carved from white marble. The pajamas she was wearing did nothing modest for her body, either. It wasn't tight or incredibly revealing or anything like that, but just the way it hung off her body, how it managed to cling and frame almost every curve on her figure, how they showed the shape of her long legs. And the way she's licking her lips right now, damn it. That has to be the most distracting habit I've ever seen with this girl. The way she does it, it's so sensual and so innocent at the same time, while the lips that she runs her tongue over are luscious and smooth. I have to hold myself back from leaning forward and taking a taste from those lips, they're so tempting. Just the sight of her and that simple action gives me a hard-on, and I have to move my arm to rest it over my lap, hoping to hide my arousal from her. 

The sound of her clearing her throat jars me out of my thoughts and back to reality. She's still looking very uncomfortable and now she's biting down on her bottom lip. I clear my throat as well, while at the same time trying to think of something to say to make up for what just happened. I remember my sweatshirt and reach behind me to grab it. "Here," I say, offering her the sweatshirt. 

"Thanks," she says, offering me a shy smile as she shrugs it on. She looks so cute in my sweatshirt. It's huge on her. The sleeves go way down past her hands, and it's so big and baggy around her torso. 

"Better?" I ask.

"Yes," she says, nodding. "Thank you." 

There is a lot of tension in the air between us, so thick it's almost like fog. Not just from what just happened, but because I can sense her curiosity about me, as I know she can sense mine about her. We want to know about each other, but neither of us have the courage to ask. My curiosity is peaked, most definitely. I want to see her arms, why she keeps hiding them and why she reacted the way she did earlier today when I touched her, although I have a pretty good idea about what happened to her, I want confirmation. But I know I'm not going to get it, not yet, anyway. 

"Were you forced to come here?" Kylene asks suddenly, breaking the silence that had formed between us.

"Yeah," I reply. "Were you?"

"Yes," she says, her tone almost taking on a sharp edge. "My dad made me."

"Mine too."

"What…what about your…mom?" she asks cautiously, gently prying. 

I smile inwardly at her gentleness. "My parents are divorced. She didn't really have much say in the matter…"

"Oh." 

"And yours…?"

She hesitates to answer my question, raising a hand to nervously tug on a long lock of dark hair. "My mom…she died…a little while ago."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"How…did she die?" 

"Car accident. She went over the gate on the interstate and off a cliff." 

I wince at that and can't help but say, "Ouch."

She shakes her head. "She was killed instantly, according to the police, anyway," she says, almost casually, looking down at her sweatshirt-covered hands. 

"But still…" 

"Yeah, I know, it had to hurt to some extent. There couldn't have been just no pain at all, right?" She sounds so calm talking about this and her expression is so…blank. But yet I can sense a strong emotion hidden behind that façade. Love, hate, sadness, regret, I don't know exactly which, but I can sense that it's one of those--and, then again, the windows to her soul are looking down and away from me, which could explain my difficulty of reading her. 

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

She nods her head, but I can tell she's more nodding to reassure herself than agreeing with me, and lets out a shaky breath into the cold night air. She'd begun picking at my sweatshirt, picking off imaginary dust or fuzz, or pulling at the sleeves, even though they already covered her fingertips. 

"Something troubling you?" I ask her, watching her intently as she continues to pick at herself. 

"Huh?" She looks back up at me, confused. "No, nothing's wrong. Why?" 

"You seem a little…uncomfortable," I say.

She immediately stops picking at herself after I say that and shrugs her shoulders. "Nah. I'm just thinking about my dad."

"About what he'll be sending you in the mail?" 

She looks surprised that I'd remembered that, or that I'd guessed that that was what was bothering her. I noticed her expression after Sophie told her about her dad calling her. She seemed confused, deeply troubled, maybe even scared. I noticed it when she first came out here too. "Uh…yeah…actually," she says, her voice wavering slightly. 

"What's there to be nervous about that?" 

She takes a minute to look me in the eyes before answering me, as if debating whether or not she can trust me. "It's just…something about my dad. I don't trust it. I feel like he's up to something." 

"Like what?" I ask, frowning.

"I…I don't know," she says, sounding and looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

"Oh. Well, I'm sure everything will be fine," I assure her, offering her a small smile. She returns the smile.

"Maybe you're right," she says. "Well, I should probably head back, I'm getting a little sleepy." As soon as she's finished saying the word 'sleepy' a yawn escapes her lips. She stands up from the porch, hugging the sweatshirt close to her body. When she straightens out the sweatshirt falls down just past her butt. "Good night."

"'Night," I reply, watching her as she turns around and heads back towards the girls' dorms and ignoring the fact that she's still wearing my sweatshirt. I'll get it back from her tomorrow. 

****

PETER'S POV

"Peter?"

"In here." 

Sophie steps into my office, wearing a pair of blue plaid flannel pajama pants and a gray T-shirt, her blond hair hanging down lose around her shoulders. "I thought you were in here," she says, smiling warmly. "I saw your light on. What are you doing up so late?" 

"Thinking," I reply bluntly, shrugging my shoulders. 

"About?"

I lean back in my deck chair and prop a leg up on a small cardboard box off to the left side of my desk. "That new girl, Kylene." 

"Oh? What about her?"

"I don't know. There's just something about her, something deep, and I don't like it." 

Sophie frowns, confused. "Are you sensing about her father?" 

"Yeah, but not just him," I say, scratching at the dark stubble forming on my chin in thought. "I feel there's more to it." 

Sophie's frown deepened, looking even more confused than she did before. She walks up closer to my desk, looking me straight in the eyes. "Like what?" 

"I don't know. Maybe something between her and the step mother? Or maybe even possibly her real mother?"

"Her real mother's dead, isn't she? She died in a car accident." 

"Yeah." 

"Ah," Sophie says, nodding in understanding, her hand on her chin in thought. "Family problems and loss are always the worst." 

"They're usually what's the cause of most of these kids' problems." 

"Yeah. So, how long do you think we should give her?" 

"I give her three weeks. Tops. If she doesn't at least _start_ saying anything by then, we start pushing." 

"I'm not so sure about that," Sophie says thoughtfully, shaking her head, her blond tresses swaying gracefully around her serious face. "She doesn't strike me as the type to take to being 'pushed' very easily. One wrong move and we might just 'push' her over the edge." 

I nod, considering what she just said. "Maybe you're right. She does seem kind of over sensitive, vulnerable." I pause for a moment, thinking. A thought comes to mind, about earlier today, when Kylene ran off into the woods. "She got really upset earlier today. You know, when she ran off into the woods. What was that about?"

"I have no clue. None of the kids said anything." 

"It's not normal for a kid to just get upset like that."

"Well, you saw what happened between her and her father when he dropped her off. Maybe she was still coming to terms with that." 

"Nah. She was fine when I dropped her off at her first class."

"She could've been hiding it, Peter." 

"Yeah, I know, but I still don't think that's it. She looked worried too, you know, when you told her that her dad called." 

"Mmm. I don't know what to say about that one." 

I sink further back into my chair, bringing up my other leg to cross over the leg that was resting on the cardboard box, allowing my mind to take over and do some more thinking. This girl worries me. It's one thing to have just family problems, but when your mother dies, and not too long ago, either, that can be even more trouble. Sophie is right, she does seem very vulnerable. That's not a good thing. When trying to recover she needs to be strong. We'll have to help her become strong. But before we can do that we have to find out what exactly what's going on, and she's no where ready to start talking--

"Peter." Sophie's voice breaks through my thoughts and forces me to look back up into her blue eyes, her deep piercing blue eyes. "That's enough thinking for tonight. You need to get to sleep. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

I give her a small smile. She knows me too well. "You're right. 'Night, Soph, I'll see you in the morning." 

She smiles back. "'Night," she replies softly before turning and exiting the room, closing the door shut behind her. 

****

-----

KYLENE'S POV

"Kylene!" 

I whirl around at the sound of my name, to see Daisy running up the path towards me. I slow down my pace, which I realize now, was relatively fast, compared to the speed I thought I was walking. Once Daisy catches up to me, she stops beside me and rests a hand on my shoulder, bending over and resting the other arm over her jean covered knee. "You okay?" I ask her.

"God, girl, do you realize how fast you were walking?" she says, panting. "I must've been walking behind you for like five minutes and you were like twenty feet in front of me, walking _really_ fast, and not even knowing." She looks down at my own jean covered legs. "You've got killer legs."

"Uh, thanks, I guess," I say, laughing. 

"Did you do track back at your school or something?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" she asks, sounding unconvinced.

Another laugh escapes my lips. I'm in a laughing mood this morning for some strange, unknown reason, which I find to be particularly odd, considering how well my day went yesterday. "Yes, I'm sure." 

"Or, you know what, you could be a dancer, or a gymnast person. Were you either of those?"

"I used to dance." 

"I knew it," Daisy says, sounding satisfied with herself. "_Used to_? Why'd you stop?" 

I look down at the books I'm carrying in my arms. "Personal reasons," I tell her. 

"Oh, I see," Daisy says, nodding. "That's too bad. Well, at least you _can_. Maybe you can show us some of your stuff at one of our dances." 

"You have dances here?"

"Yeah. They're not really any good, though. I've been to better. But they can be okay." 

"When's your next dance?" 

"Umm… I think we have another one coming up right before Thanksgiving."

"That's over a month away."

"Well, you came like a week after we just had one. That one turned out to be fun, actually. We had Latin music."

"Ricky Martin?" I tease.

"No!" she exclaims, sounding absolutely disgusted, scrunching up her face. "_Real_ Latin music, with real Latin dancing. None of that shake your 'bon-bon' shit." 

I can't help but burst into a fit of laughter. Just her facial expression when I mentioned Ricky Martin was hilarious. I bend over, grasping my stomach; I was laughing so hard, my books and Scott's sweatshirt that I had been carrying falling to the ground. God, I haven't laughed like this since… I can't even remember! And I don't even know why I'm laughing. It wasn't really that funny. Just something that tickled me funny, I guess.

"Hey, what's this?" she asks, bending over to pick up Scott's sweatshirt. My laughter instantly subsides, and I feel warmth creep up to my cheeks. "Isn't this Scott's?" A mischievous grin spreads across her lips. 

"…Yes," I say, reaching out to grab it, but she jerks it away from my reach. 

"How'd you get Scott's sweatshirt?" she asks, eyeing my suspiciously.

"Don't look at me like that," I say, frowning at her as I pick up my books. "He lended it to me last night because I was cold." 

"I didn't see you with Scott at all last night." 

My frown deepens. "Do you have to be so damn nosey?" I snap, taking advantage of her interest to grab the sweatshirt back. 

"Yes." Her reply was simple, sounding completely innocent. 

I let out a sigh, deciding that I might as well tell her, she obviously wants to know, and I have a feeling she won't give in easily if I just tell her to mind her own business. And besides, it isn't like it's something I have to hide it. Nothing happened. We just sat and talked for a few minutes--okay, a long few minutes. "I…went out after you guys were all asleep, and I met Scott outside."

The dropping of her jaw and widening of her eyes told me that she took it the wrong way. "No!" I exclaim, stopping her before she can jump to any conclusions. "We didn't really _meet_ out there, it was a coincidence. I went out for a walk, and he just happened to be outside at the same time."

"Oh really?" Daisy says teasingly. "And what did you guys do? Just sit out there and talk?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." 

"And he gave you his sweatshirt?"

"He didn't _give_ it to me, he just let me borrow it." 

"Oh, excuse me, that's what I meant," she says, rolling her eyes. "Ever the gentleman, just the same."

"Who's a gentleman?" 

Daisy and I both whirl around in the direction of the voice, startled, to see Scott, Ezra and Shelby walking towards us. Daisy takes a side glance at me, and, I can't be sure, but I think she mouths something to me along the lines of, "Speak of the devil", before glancing back at them and saying coyly, "Oh, nobody." 

"Oh," Scott says, merely brushing it off as nothing. "So, how are you ladies today?" 

"Fine," Daisy and I say in unison. 

"Scott," Shelby says, "isn't that your sweatshirt?" She points to the sweatshirt in my hands, giving me a dirty look.

"Yeah," he says, smiling at me and completely oblivious to the look. "I let Kylene borrow it last night." 

"Uh, yeah. S-Sorry, I…I forgot to give it back before I left," I stammer. Why the hell do I have to get so tongue tied around him? I step forward and hand the sweatshirt back to him. 

"Last night?" Shelby questions, confused. 

"Yeah," he says, sounding a little annoyed at her insistent probing. 

"Did you sleep good last night, Kylene?" Ezra asks with a smile on his face, changing the subject. "Or at least better than you did the night before?" 

"Yeah," I say, nodding my head and offering him a small smile to assure him. Truthfully, though, I didn't. I had a hard time getting to sleep even after my little midnight chitchat with Scott. But that was partially the reason I didn't get to sleep last night. All night long, I laid there in bed and thought about the way he'd looked, the way he'd sounded, how incredibly sexy he looked in the moonlight, and how he'd been looking at me through our entire conversation. Even now, it still shakes me to the core. I can't recall anyone ever looking at me the way he did. Eyes dark with admiration and…yes, to my surprise, I even recognized lust in his eyes. It scares me to think that someone would even _look_ at me like that. I mean, what the hell did he see in me to look at me like _that_? 

"But…I don't understand…I was with you the entire time last night, and I didn't see you with her, much less offer her your sweatshirt," Shelby continues, relentless. 

Scott lets out a sigh. "What does it matter?" he says.

"It…it doesn't…I suppose."

"All right then. Let's drop the subject, okay?" 

"…O-Okay." 

The whole subject is finally over, but I can tell Shelby's still pissed off at me. She must really like him, which I can understand, but now she's being possessive. And I think Scott's made it pretty clear that he's available to anyone, and that includes me, whether she likes it or not.

"Hey guys, we're gonna be late for class," Ezra points out, looking down at his wristwatch. 

"Oh, right," I say, hugging my books closer to my chest. For once in my life I'm actually glad to go to class--which is where I had been heading in the first place before Daisy stopped me--it's better than staying here and arguing with Shelby. 

"Yeah, all right, let's go," Scott says, stepping away from Shelby to walk up beside me.

I watch Shelby the whole time. Her eyes are on Scott, watching his as though he were her prey. And when he walks over to stand by me, her gaze switches over to me and the look she sends me literally shakes me to the bone. If looks could kill…well, I guess I'd be a dead girl. 

"Yep," Daisy says, starting off in a different direction from us, her eyes focused on me, a smirk playing on her face. "See you guys later," she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Bye, Kylene. Bye, Scott," she says suggestively, deliberately making her tone that way.

"Bye," Scott and I say in unison, and then we both look at each other. Scott grins, and I blush. I feel like a giddy little schoolgirl, but I can't help it.

And all the while, Shelby's giving me the death glare.

__


End file.
